Filigree
by Anithene
Summary: No records, no valuables, nothing but a daughter who cast two confused shadows on the wall. Collection of drabbles in TP universe. Complete
1. Blue

I had actually planned a full-fledged TP epic before I got this idea. Well, the epic was cut short because my computer crashed, and was unable to back up the files. So this is just something I'm writing to keep my creative juices flowing in the meantime.

If I butcher the characters, feel free to tell me…but be nice, mmkay? First Zelda fanfic after all. And not the last.

TP SPOILERS!

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Blue.

It rivaled the brightest of sapphire and depths of Lake Hylia. At one moment the blue would be soft as wax, and the next cold as the blade scarring his hands. She drank it like some forbidden wine, the action sinful but yet, such a great pleasure. And then guilt would prick like a thorn, forever stuck into her heart and reminding her with each beat: It was not allowed. Light and Twilight never mingled. Who are they, those self-righteous beings who called themselves Gods, to decide what was right and what was wrong? Acid would boil up in her accursed being, mismatched limbs sewn together with dark magic and gnarled runes. It would rise and bubble into her eyes, one flashing openly at the dawn and the other concealed with her rubble crown. Twilight was forever Twilight and could be nothing more; it would never mingle with the light of his world, gleaming in those..blue eyes.

And her anger would vanish like dust in the wind.

OoOo


	2. Hero

OoOo

Hero.

The word perched hot and thick on his tongue. Hero. The syllables ghosted down his spine and burned inside his flesh. They formed ribbons and laced between his ribs, tugging and pulling there as if to tear him open. Bones creaked, muscles snapped, organs burst: the knowledge ravaged him on the inside, protected him on the outside. He was a Hero, destined to save the land from Twilight, destined to murder himself in the process. Forced to leave behind the scent of sweet hay and fresh apples and mountain water. Purge himself of sepia colored memories flashing smiles and laughter before his gaze. Those smiles spoke of warmth and family, an impenetrable armor linked by love and summer days; he had to shed that armor and adorn a suit made of fear and gray, sleepless nights. But such things had to be done…every battle, every slice made by his sword, reminded him of this. That sword was held by other Hero's like himself, thrust into this world of damsels and monsters and blood.

He looks at her and thinks: It's worth being a Hero for her.

OoOo


	3. Rain

OoOo

Rain.

Day in, and day out. Strange, glowing rain that pelted the windows day in, and day out. Rain was the only thing of her world that would penetrate the thick miasma of Twilight about her. Its debris sparkled on the glass of the window before her, cold and hard against her gloved fingers. Then she would withdraw those fingers and clench them against her chest. She could only look out that solitary window and hope for answers, because the Wisdom shining on her skin could no longer provide them. She would gaze helplessly on the phantoms of her people and hope for something to change. Hope for the rain to stop.

When he came, it did.

OoOo


	4. Blood

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Blood.

It whispered hot and sweet against his blade hewing messily into phantasmal skin and bone. But a closer look – yes, he was real, yes, that lovely blood dribbling away from his arm was redder than anything in this foggy limbo he was trapped in. If he still had an existing heart it would be fluttering with madman joy because of that hot, red and sorely missed blood. The Warrior still left in his semi-solid being cried out for carnage while the Knight spoke for peace and teaching. The boy-not-quite-Hero before him had to learn to draw blood and die the way a Hero should, like the Hero before him. Again his sword lashed out in search of more real flesh and more real blood but-

If he still had an existing heart, it would be fluttering with pride for this boy-almost-Hero before him as his bloody sword clattered to the ground.

OoOo

Just as a note, you should really check out Chaotic Serenity's "The World in Brief." It's provided me with some much needed inspiration.


	5. Beauty

Sorry for the wait, the one person that seems interested in this XD school's been busy and sucking my muse away. Remember that reviews make me happy :P and me happy means more updates.

OoOo

Beauty.

There is a strange but nonetheless haunting beauty in each crevice, each blade of grass, insignificant by themselves but part of something bigger. She forgets to tell him that they have no rivers in her world; no mountains, no plants, no living organism save for themselves and perhaps the Sol which keeps them alive. And because they have no sun, no moon, nor stars – the light which plays at his golden hair is completely foreign and for a moment she reaches out to touch it…yet her impish hand retreats back into her chest. And then he looks at her with those blue eyes, and she feels the corners of her mouth perk up, delighting when his does the same. He is no longer a mere farmer-boy, a light-dweller, but something much more.

Some haunting beauty that has no place in her world without light.


	6. Normalcy

Normalcy.

The world was curling at the edges. He blinked, and it returned to normalcy. But what _is _normalcy? Repeating ones actions day in, day out, and expecting to repeat them once more the next day? He'd much prefer a world of normalcy than one of curling corners and sharp edges. Come to close and – those sharp edges were deadly, if one strayed to near to the unknown and things best left to those better capable. He was just a boy living in a nondescript village in some nondescript country known as Hyrule. He was a boy who liked pretend swords, pretend monsters, and his pretend horse he'd often fantasized as the real things. But fantasy had its place beneath reality and in reality, he was just Colin, plain nondescript Colin who preferred the normalcy of daydreaming to curling worlds.

He blinked, and fantasy lost its place.


	7. Sinking

OoOo

Sinking.

There was a terrible sinking feeling in the depths of her stomach. She hoped he didn't see the tremble in her fingers as she handed him her charm. It had given her so much courage while she and the old woman were confined, and Ilia could only hope it did the same for him. Because she knew he would need it in the long journey to come. Her fingertips brushed briefly over the small triangle on the back of his hand, eyes flickering up to his smiling face. Words touched the back of her throat, lips closing them away and back into her fluttering heart. She could do nothing but watch as he left, hoping he had Courage the legends spoke of, because the sinking feeling in her stomach told her he would need it.

OoOo


	8. Water

Water.

It flowed cold and sweet over her feet as she stepped bravely from her throne. Water was the essence of her life, as every Zora is born in water, lives in water, and dies water. It was the bringer of life to everything which saw the light of day. Sea green eyes opened to gaze at the solemn faces before her, yet she merely tilted her chin higher and waded into the pool of clear, perfect water. It swirled around her fingertips and climbed lovingly around her hips, cooing over the slick rocks above as if to comfort her people. It was pure and absolute even with the dense pall of Twilight encircling the sky. Her reflection spewed forth in rippling rivets, mingling almost prettily with that of her executioner's. Sea green eyes closed as a large, clawed hand whisked frighteningly around her throat.

Smiling one last smile, Rutela let the water engulf her body.


	9. Truth

Sorry for the wait. School got busy, but I'm on summer break now :)

OoOo

Truth.

People said that truth was always hard to bear. Still a child, Ralis never knew what such words meant. But he learned very quickly. It weighed on his heart like an anchor, fixing deep and stubborn in his soul that no Hylian magic could cure. His world, once so full of color, had become a wisp of gray, ragged edges. Ralis didn't understand, unable to comprehend, why the burden of truth was so heavy. And then he came, breathing light into his world once more, colors blossoming among the thick gray. The burden of truth was still heavy. People said it was always hard to bear. Still a child, Ralis knew what those words meant. Still a child, he also knew another thing about truth.

It wasn't so heavy with someone to share it with.


	10. Sand

Sand.

It was everywhere. Tiny grains rammed beneath his fingernails, crept between his eyelids and into his hair. It snuck like insects into his clothing, what little he had left, weaving into the rough fibers and scratching already sore flesh. His body was sore, his mind ached, and the heart which beat restlessly for freedom beneath his ribcage burned. The Arbiter's grounds was an accursed place full of torchlight and so, _so_ much sand. The prisoners such as himself could hardly be called men anymore – he had become part of the place, breathing life into the stone walls, making the sand his own. It crammed into his soul and whispered sweet revenge against his burning heart, telling him he only need to wait. They were all waiting for death.

The sand promised revenge.

OoOo

In case you're wondering – I was writing this with the Death Sword in mind. I believe it used to be a prisoner whose soul was transformed into the monster after death. Just a thought


	11. Phantoms

Phantoms.

Everything around him was infused with a magical, static glow. It rattled through his skull and buzzed at the surface of his skin. Or fur? Yes, fur, because he no longer had human skin or human eyes or human _anything_, save for perhaps emotions and cunning. Even then, emotions and cunning not completely his. The magic had begun to buzz and vibrate, like plucked strings stretched taught over the air; phantoms swimming at the fringe of his bestial mind. But phantoms were just that; specters of the night and fairy tales mothers told their children. The magic thrumming into his soul calmed, settled like dust on his mind. The static glow morphed into the familiar colors of his world as the Twilight peeled away from his soul. Link smiled.

Phantoms were just that.


	12. Bottles

Bottles.

Bottles of whisky, bottles of rum, bottles of sherry. He would drink it all. And she would watch, hating it, as he drowned sorrow after sorrow with them and found no hope at the bottoms. Yet Telma knew there was no stopping a man without hope, so she continued to watch, listen, want to slap him across the face and tell him all the wrong he was doing. Tell him his family needed him more than those bottles did.

Bottles of whisky, bottles of rum, bottles of sherry. He would drink it all.


	13. Poppies

Poppies.

A tiny sun against the frozen white moon. It dipped its heads low, large petals whirling auric gold and fading to funeral black. So beautiful in contrast to her grisly captors, the festering walls of wood and rock imprisoning her home. Poppies had never bloomed in the Hidden Village before, not since Impaz was but a child. She could remember nuzzling them as if they were pets, playthings, companions. A smile curled her wrinkled lips as she dared a glance outside her window. And just like that, a gust of wind smelling of sand and rot whisked by and tore the poppy from its stem. A hand came to rest on her shoulder. Ilia gave her a sad smile, a mere curl of the lips, but it was a smile all the same.

No flower was more beautiful than a smile.


	14. Arrogance

(A quick AU - I've got my own computer back and will hopefully put up more TP fics. Enjoy.)

OoOo

Arrogance.

The man was the epitome of arrogance. Each smirk, each look, each step he took _breathed_ of it and it sickened her. He acted as if he had the entire world in his grasp; and he did. Zelda was not foolish enough to admit that the world did not hang on a delicate balance. All of it depended on Link. Yet, Link was not there in the castle, with its gray walls and endless rain. The entire place had the cheer of a funeral march. Ganondorf was the only thing that gave it color. His desert heritage spoke clearly on his clothing and coal-hot eyes. He was arrogant, and had no qualms with showing it. So arrogant he had proposed she become his queen. That arrogance disappeared as she refused. She would not give up her kingdom.

But she already had. His arrogance, it seemed, was justified.


	15. Two

Two.

She always cast two shadows. One of her father, the other, her mother. Her nameless mother who had left no handprint on the world save for her. No records, no valuables, nothing but a daughter who cast two confused shadows on the wall. Her father raised her like a Knight; strong, proud, cold. Taught her to hide behind her armor when the world became too great. She looked at other girls, with their dresses and ringlets and smiles; she wore trousers with a knife in the belt and dirt on her face. They only cast one shadow. Ashei, the woman-man-Knight-daughter cast two.


End file.
